The hard part is knowing that somewhere you're still breathing. Your heart still beating. Beating for me. The harder part is knowing that somewhere, out there in the world, you're still smiling. But not smiling at me. I guess you'll never know. Never know what the inside of this seemingly glass heart looks like. Maybe I hide it all too well. I know that's what you think. That I don't love you like you do me. But I promise. I promise that even when the glass is fogged, I do. I really love you.